Behind the Mask
by Dizzykat
Summary: “You chose Weasley over me,” He spat in her ear, every syllable making her cringe. “This is the life you chose for yourself. I didn’t choose this for you.” Hermione looked up into those stormy grey eyes, loathing them. DMHG, Sequel to "Truth or Dare"!
1. Chapter 1: Saving Me

**A/N: Hey everyone! Hope everyone is having a good spring semester, if you are still in school, that is. As always, I do know own any of J.K. Rowling's characters, though I wish I owed Draco Malfoy ;P This is noncompliant with the end of HP, so don't expect the details to always match. This starts off distopian just so y'all know :D**

**I'm not sure where this story is going quite yet, but hopefully I willbe inspired by your lovely reviews! As always, read and review! Kat**

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"You chose Weasley over me," He spat in her ear, every syllable making her cringe. "This is the life you chose for yourself. I didn't choose this for you." Releasing her from his Legilimens spell, he watched as Hermione's body crumpled to the floor and she pathetically tried to ease herself back to a dignified standing position.

Hermione looked into those eyes, those stone cold, grey eyes. She wished with every word that she might die rather than hear them. "I chose it because that life made me happy. It is the life I wanted."

"I didn't make you happy!" He retorted. "You think, for one second, that you didn't want me! Don't lie to yourself, Granger. I'm sure you remember those nights as well as I do; just you and I, alone by the lake… or in my bed."

She spit at the floor where her captor stood, her eyes full of rage and hatred.

A high pitch laugh, full of mirth, rang out through the dungeon. "She is quite the aggressive one isn't she?"

"Yes my Lord, which is why I have brought her here to you. She is a good ally to have," Draco Malfoy motioned to his chained and shackled captive. "She is driven and does not know how give up. We just have to make her change her ways," He looked toward Hermione again, "Away from being bloody Saint Potter's best friend and accomplice."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to forget the sounds of water droplets hitting the damp and moss-covered floor where she and many other were held hostage. These were the slave pens. The place where her and her dungeon-mates lived day-in and day-out, praying that they might one day be reunited with their families and loved ones. 

This was war, and they were prisoners of that war. A war between the Order of the Pheonix and Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

In her mind, she was captured on the grounds of a forest only a few days ago, far from the safety of Hogwarts. She, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter had been searching for the horcruxes, certain that one was near. Ron and Harry had left her by the tent to guard their location when a rustle behind her caused her to turn and retaliate. She was not quick enough to block the curse that hit her, leaving her in a comatose state for much longer than a few days. Only recently she found out that she had been asleep for nearly four months. 

She had had no word on the Order since her capture, but she was sure that the plan was still the same: Find the horcruxes, kill the Death Eaters, and destroy Voldemort. She only wished that Harry and Ron had not given up their search for the horcruxes to save her.

"My Lord, if I might be allowed to watch over her, with your permission of course, I might be able to… uh… _persuade_ Miss Granger to change sides and work for us. With a brilliant mind like hers, we would surely take over the entire wizarding world in your name."

With this notion, Hermione snapped back to her reality. A depressing reality at that. One where Bad was winning, and no good was anywhere to be found in her everyday world. She stared down her captor; metaphorical bullets were aimed towards his nearly non-existent heart.

In front of her a cement chair stood erect, higher than anyone in the room – a chauvinist and narcissist move if you asked her – Hermione watched as Lord Voldemort pondered this idea. 

"Yes, I think this is a grand idea. If you, Draco, can prove that Miss Granger here is willing to work for me, and me alone, by the eve of Halloween you shall be rewarded above all others." Voldemort stood from his cement throne and moved toward Hermione. 

His pale fingers caressed her chin, his forked tongue scenting her air. "This one has great potential," His eyes moved from Hermione form, looking her up and down – making her feel violated – to Draco's eyes. "Do NOT disappoint me, or there will be consequences." He strode back towards his seat amongst the Death Eaters and the other slaves around him, "Starting with you parents. They have long served me; it would be such a pity to waste good servants. You have six months, Draco. No more."

"Yes, my Lord. I will not fail you." Draco bowed at the feet of his Master, one hand still on the chain that like him and Hermione's shackles, the other clenched in a fit of rage. However, his eyes would not betray his emotions.

Turning back to her, he spoke harshly once again in her ear as he past Hermione, "You will remember what we had and you WILL do as I say. Soon enough Weasel will be nothing to you. Or at least you _wish_ he was nothing to you." 

A single tear escaped her eyes as she felt a pained tug on her wrist pull her toward the lighted doorway upstairs to the Malfoy Manor above. With that one tear Hermione wished that she, too, might fall and shatter to a million pieces rather than march unwillingly towards the impending ache that she knew was to come.

Several floors above, Hermione was forced in to one of the many rooms that lined the East Wing of Malfoy Manor.

"You will sleep here," Draco motioned to a single, King-sized bed, covered with jade and emerald green linens.

"Here? With you!" Hermione motioned toward the bed, noticing that this was Draco's room, proven by the fact that it was ornamented with several quidditch pictures of him, as well as the Bulgarian team, zooming around the pitch on their latest model brooms.

Draco smirked at her, knowing that there was nothing she could do or say. He was master of this house, and she had to obey him. "Of course with me, where else would you sleep?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe in a guest bedroom. ALONE!" Hermione practically wanted to rip her hair out. Why did she, of all people, have to go through this surreal situation with _Draco Malfoy_? 

"Do you really think that if you were in _my _home I would let you sleep anywhere but with me?" The signature smirk once again reared its ugly face. Draco sat on the bed, pulling out his wand and pointing them at the lock on Hermione's cuffs. The manacles fell away, clinking as they hit the floor at her feet.

Rubbing her wrist, she looked back into the stormy grey eyes, her livid brown eyes locking contact. "I would think that for once you might be a decent human and give me some privacy since I've been living in the slave pens for what apparently has been _months _of my life."

"Yes, about that. I truly am sorry. We tried to renervate you several times, but you were too locked in your protective subconscious to wake up. Apparently your brain understood the trauma you would face if you woke up, so you kept yourself safe and secure." Draco reached for her hands, pulling her to him and positioning her body between his bent legs on the bedside. "Even though, living with me is as safe and secure as you could be."

"I don't need your security, _Malfoy_." She spat his name out with all the ungratefulness that she could muster.

"Oh, you found the slave pen comfortable, did you?" He retorted, a look of rage coming over his otherwise handsome features. He gripped her wrists tighter, watching her fight his restrains. "Well, why don't I just give you back to the Dark Lord and tell him that you are worthless, that you can't be changed."

Hermione's eyes betrayed a flicker of fear at his words. Damning her self silently, she wished she had not reacted as she watched Draco's lip raise in triumph at her reaction; his grip loosened once again.

"That's what I thought. Now if you would be so kind as to step into the bathroom and get ready for bed, I will be waiting for you when you are done." Draco motioned towards to Hermione's right.

"I am not going to take orders from you, Malfoy."

"And see, that's what I get for trying to be the good guy. Hermione, go to the bathroom and change, and come back to my bed once you are done." This was said as a command, as an order.

Hermione felt herself being tugged against her will towards the bathroom. "You git! You have an obedience charm on me!" Her eyes were wide with terror; she knew the potential harm this charm could cause.

"As I said, I tried being the nice guy, you just had to go and be stubborn. As usual." Draco ran his hands through his hair as he readied himself for bed, too, pulling off his robes as he watched Hermione's form reluctantly walk into the bathroom and shut the door. In his head he saw an image of her body, the image he saw months and months ago, a body whose warmth he knew well and whose scent filled his nostrils as he slept each night.

In the bathroom, Hermione found an emerald green silk night gown with black lace trim. It was loose on her scrawny body; the slave pens had done nothing for her figure. Bread and water every other day has its way of thinning a person down to their skin and bones nearly. Luckily she had not been there as long as others. 

She touched her fingertips to her hollowed cheeks. The natural blush was gone, replaced by a paleness that rivaled Malfoy's.

She readied herself and stepped out of the bathroom, wishing for a third time that night that Merlin might strike her dead.

Draco was nearly asleep already, his eyes half-closed and his blonde locks of hair lying askew from their normal position. "Come to bed he mumbled."

Again, Hermione felt her body move against its own volition as she pulled the covers back and climbed into bed with Draco Malfoy. As she laid down a foot away from him, she felt his arms snake around her waist and pull her body close enough to his to feel every bend and curve of his body against hers. "Lay next to me," he mumbled, his hot breath against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

Another tear rolled down her cheek and fell from the bridge of her nose as he snuggled up next to her, kissing her shoulder as he drifted off to sleep. He was saving her, she knew it, but she wished at this point that she didn't require his heroism.

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**A/N: So I definitely got this image of Hermione and Draco at like 2 a.m. my time, so hopefully what I put on the computer works out how I imagined it. I hope y'all love it!**

**Please, READ AND REVIEW!**

**Always, Kat**


	2. Chapter 2: Memories

**A/N: Hey everyone! I just wanted to say that yes, this is the sequel to Truth or Dare, so if you haven't read it you should! Though, maybe this will make sense if you haven't. Well you should just read it sometime anyways! :D**

**I've reread this several times so I hope I caught all the errors, cross your fingers!**

**You know the drill!**

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Chapter 2: Memories

Hermione woke to the feeling of a strong pair of arms holding her gently against the body to which they belonged

Hermione woke to the feeling of a strong pair of arms holding her gently against the body to which they belonged. Drearily she opened her eyes and looked about the room; light poured in through the window, illuminating ever corner.

Thoughts of her dreams came back to her, she dreamt of the man she lay next to. His face had been hidden as if by a mask, making his emotions and intentions secret.

Closing her eyes once more, memories filled her mind. It had all started with a dare.

"_Excuse me?!" Hermione Granger asked a look of shock mingled with disgust spreading over her face. Her voice squeaked in alarm and incredulity. Blinking furiously she stared at Ginny Weasley wide-eyed, her cheeks nearly as red as her best friend's hair._

"_You heard me! I dare you to seduce Draco Malfoy. It's perfect!"_

"_I think 'perfect' is a terrible overstatement." Hermione crossed her arms, staring daggers at Ginny._

"_C'mon Hermione, lighten up," Dean Thomas said from somewhere to her left. She did not look at him; Hermione's gaze was unfaltering._

"_Right, it's not like you have any exciting secrets - we all know already that you snogged Viktor Krum," Ginny giggled and looked at everyone else in the room before looking at Hermione again, "and that is the best you've got. Sorry, love. You need some new secrets." She winked._

She definitely had some secrets now. Ginny was the only one who ever knew about her and Draco's secretive liaison back at Hogwarts. It was too taboo for Harry and Ron to know and definitely too illicit for the rest of the world. Not to mention Ron would fly off the handle if he ever knew.

After their sixth year Hermione had returned to Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Ginny. Draco had not come back. With his connection to Voldemort so out in the open no one really expected him to anyway.

Hermione drilled it in her head that he was not coming back and they no longer had a relationship. Day-in and day-out she went on with the same perfunctory routine: breakfast, classes, lunch, classes, dinner, library. Of course she took time out of her habit to be with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Most of the time spent with Ron and Harry consisted of a circular discussion about where the horcruxes might be and what they even were. Although, occasionally she had Head Duties – rounds and such – that she performed as Head Girl along side of Ernie MacMillan who had been granted Head Boy status.

Eventually she stopped thinking of Draco everyday. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months; in due course thoughts of him scarcely entered her mind. The one vestige of their relationship she allowed herself was the locket he had slipped around her neck the last time she saw him before he left, choosing leaving her fleur-de-lis necklace in a lined jewelry box in her room.

In their time apart her love for Draco was placed upon a shelf in her heart, gathering dust. Taken off the shelf were her feelings for Ron. She was not open with her change of heart, but

Before she, Ron, and Harry left Hogwarts, she had seen him once again in a second attack on Hogwarts. Hermione had watched as chaos ensued all around her. Everywhere there had been people battling Death Eaters - Order members, teachers, and even some of the students who had stayed at Hogwarts that year, too. She knew he was there, she had felt it. Anxiety had rooted her feet to the floor, keeping her as immobile as a person who had been petrified.

She didn't move until she had seen Ron cornered by two Death Eaters on the floor below. She ran at full speed down the corridor to the marble which led to where Ron was dodging spells left and right.

As she was racing down there, a blur of pale blonde out of the corner of her eye had caught her attention. Her head had whip-lashed to look while her body froze mid-stride. Her heart had palpitated while her breath hitched in her throat. There he was, just as she had remembered him. Tall and handsome; aristocratic and debonair. By the look on his face, he had been to hell and back.

Hermione couldn't have help but stare at him. She had wanted to call out to him so desperately, run up to him and embrace him. It had been months since she had last seen him or even been close enough to kiss him.

Her eyes had perused over his form from her spot at the top of the marble staircase. Then she did not hate him for becoming a Death Eater; it had been a matter of survival. In those times, everything was about survival. After Albus Dumbledore had died, Hermione had listened to Harry's rendition of what he had seen on the Astronomy Tower. She remembered letting out a breath (she had been holding it since he had first said Draco's name) when he mentioned that Draco was not the one who killed their Headmaster. He couldn't do it. She had known it was partially because of her. He had told her it would be.

"_Hermione!" She had heard Ron yelling her name. She shook her head of her trance and looked over to Ron again. Almost compulsively Hermione gave one last look towards where Draco had been only to find him starring up at her. The feeling of her brown eyes locked with his grey ones so unexpectedly made her head spin. Merlin, how she wanted to run to him and disappear into his arms. Reality was so dreadful right now, so depressing, so uncertain._

"_Hermione!" She felt a tug at her arm. It was Harry. "Hermione come on! We have to help Ron," he yelled as he raced to aid his best friend._

Hermione had broke eye contact with Draco and run after Harry. She did not see Draco again.

After the second attack on Hogwarts Hermione, Ron, and Harry left Hogwarts deciding that they could no longer fight the inevitable: the search for the horcruxes must be performed outside of Hogwarts. The library had failed her again and could be of no further use.

It wasn't until several months later that she had been captured. Out in a forest obscured from most people's knowledge the trio had set up camp. They had been away from everything they knew for so long and stress levels were high and mounting ever higher. The only thing that really kept them sane was the occasional underground show hosted by Order Members and other people who were fighting with them. It was good to hear news from the world that they left in order to save it, plus this way they were kept up-to-date with the movements of the Death Eaters as well the plans the Order had received from their "spy".

However, every show they heard was reporting an advance for the other side. Infiltrations in the ministry, new regulations and laws that aided Voldemort in gaining power over the Wizarding World were accounted each time. From this news, evil appeared to be triumphing.

Early one morning Hermione had woken up to Ron snoring next to her. She rolled over away from him, keeping sure not to wake him or move his arm from under her neck. She was on the verge of sleep when she heard Ron mumble "Lavender," softly. Hermione eyes flew open. She thought Ron despised her! Well, who wouldn't when she bestowed baby names and came complete with Velcro?

Hermione had shoved Ron so hard that he fell off the mattress, landing on the hard floor.

"_Oy! What was that for?" Ron exclaimed groggily, his hands over his eyes shielding them from the unwelcome light of day._

"_Get out of my room!" Hermione barked, pointing to the entryway._

"_Your room? This is my room! Go to your own room!" Ron yelled, not quite so deliriously this time._

"_Not anymore." Hermione reached for her wand and before Ron even had time to react, his wand was in her other hand. "I said, get out Ronald, or I'll hex you." _

_Ron just blinked stupidly, damning his slow reactions from just waking up. Sighing and admitting defeat he walked to the entryway where he saw Harry walking from his own room, awoken by the uproar._

_Before he was out of earshot, Hermione heard Ron talking to Harry. "Mental, that one. It's like waking up next to a banshee!"_

When she awoke later that day it had been to an empty tent. Ron and Harry had gone out again looking for the horcruxes. It was customary for them to leave the campsite and apparate to where ever they had a hunch they might be. So where they were right then, Hermione had no idea where to even begin guessing.

By dinnertime they still hadn't returned. Hermione had started to worry, thinking how terrible she felt for snapping at Ron like that. He had no control over his subconscious. She suddenly wondered if she had ever said Draco's name while she slept. As she thought this, her hand had reached up and touched the locket he had given her which lay against her chest under her clothing. She brought it out, tracing the etchings with her eyes. She opened it, watching both the dragon and the lion on other side roar and swish their tales. For some reason she just never thought to take off the necklace – almost like tying on a woven anklet and forgetting it's there.

She looked westward as the sun set through the trees. Night was close, so she had flicked her wand to light lamps and start a fire. With another flick she took down the invisibility charm on the campsite so that the boys could find their way through the dark. Hermione was not worried with doing this since their site was still unplottable. Even if someone knew where they were roughly, they would not find them by wandering through they woods – they would have to have their exact location.

As she sat by the fire she looked at the moving pictures again. She realized did not know who he was anymore. She could never love someone who committed the atrocities she knew he probably had by now. He had been a pledged Death Eater for some time; there was no denying that the time for killing had long since started in his life. Only for so long could her influence over him hinder his wand. Maybe he killed someone in the second attack on Hogwarts right under her nose.

These thoughts had sent rage through her body. He was Death Eater Malfoy now and she loathed him. Long gone was the thought that his becoming a Death Eater was just survival. He could have fought against it if he had wanted to do so. She was fighting. She, Ron, and Harry had given up everything to fight Voldemort. She hated him giving in to Voldemort's regime.

She thought of Ron. He always stayed truthful to his cause. A fool though he could be at times, she really did care deeply about him. He was sweet and kind; he would never betray her.

_She looked back at the dragon in the picture. "I hate you for being a coward. You made your choice." She snapped the locket off of her neck, throwing it as from her as she could. "I hate you for choosing Voldemort over me!"_

As soon as the locket had left her hand and the words left her mouth everything happened in slow motion. Before the locket hit the ground black-hooded figures had surrounded her, wands pointed directly at her.

Hermione knew what she had done and couldn't take it back. She had said his name. _Voldemort_. In her anger she had forgotten what she heard on the wireless the other night: A taboo was put on his name. Anyone who dared to speak it obviously wasn't a follower; this name would deceive them and give away their location.

One of the figures had approached her and by face she knew not who it was. From behind the mask a gruff voice growled at her.

"_Pretty thing said 'is name, didn't she?" She recognized the voice as Fenrir Greyback's. He trod up to her, sniffing around her head and neck, "Mm, delicious." This animalistic behavior gave Hermione a shiver._

"_She did indeed," Another Death Eater said, stepping forward to circle the captive. "Hermione Granger. Draco always said you were a sufferable know-it-all." This voice was high-pitch and sounded like it belonged to a madwoman._

"_I don't care what that bastard said! He works for Voldemort, he is no better than a disgusting ferret." _

_Hermione winced as Bellatrix Lestrange yanked her hair hard, making her lose balance and fall to the ground._

"_For a smart girl, you really are stupid," Bellatrix said dryly. "You should hold your tongue, how dare you say his name." She wiped her hand on her robes as if she had touched something disgusting. _

_Turning back to her companyions she ordered, "Search the area, Potter and the Weasley boy can't be too far from their precious mudblood."_

As the Death Eaters spread out to search the campsite, Hermione had taken the opportunity to quickly pull out her wand and aim it right at Bellatrix. A blue light shot out of her wand hitting its mark in the chest as she turned around.

Hermione watched at Bellatrix crumpled to the ground unconscious. Several Death Eaters turned around at the thud of a falling body.

Hermione jumped to her feet and sprinted into the forest. It was impossible for her to see the spell that had hit her square in the back of the head.

Hermione opened her eyes again. After this point she could remember nothing until a few days ago. She was thankful to find that Harry and Ron had not been captured, too, but they must have thought her dead for months. There was no doubt in her mind that the Death Eaters tore the campsite apart looking for them.

She felt so alone right now in spite of her bedfellow. Several tears rolled down her cheek as she thought of Harry and Ron. Oh Ron, she had been so cruel to him the last time she saw him. In her head she said an apology, hoping to Merlin that he would just know.

Choosing comfort over isolation she rolled over, causing Draco to roll onto his back, and she nestled in the crook of his arm with her head on her chest.

Unbeknownst to her, Hermione's movement caused Draco to become conscious. Feeling her lay next to him made him tilt his head down to look at her. It was the way she looked when she was asleep: memories of the night of her capture flooded his mind.

"_Draco, pick her up and take her to the pins," said the hooded figure who had aimed the spell._

_Draco looked Hermione's body laying several meters from him. He had not seen her since the second attack on Hogwarts._

_Draco had watched from afar as Hermione and Harry ran to help Ron. He had been simultaneously shocked and yet not surprised to see her. Of course she would have be there with bloody Potter and Weasley, but still the fact of seeing her after months and months of separation was a lot to take in. She had looked more unruly that ever, most likely from combat, and she looked older. She had been through a lot - they all had - but she was still as beautiful as ever._

_She had not contacted him after that final night at Hogwarts. Draco's stomach knotted at the thought - the night he nearly killed Dumbledore. That night he fled from the castle. He had seen her on his way out, battling a Death Eater, though he did not take the moment to look at who it was; he was too preoccupied at taking in a mental image of her. She had looked so powerful when she was battling, and every spell or jinx that was cast at her just missed her by millimeters._

_He had told her he loved her that night. He had not give her the time to say it back before he walked away, but he knew she did. Instinctually he just knew_

"_Don't dawdle Draco, take her now!" The voice snapped at him._

_Draco looked up at the masked and cloaked figure, "Yes, Father." _

_He trudged over to her immobile form. 'Stupid girl,' he thought, 'why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut for once; this wouldn't have happened.' As he leaned down to scoop her up in his harms he noticed something shining gold and red in the light from the fire. Reaching over he picked up an open locket he recognized as the one he gave Hermione – one half gold with rubies, the other half silver with emeralds, as well as moving pictures of a dragon and a lion on their respective side of the locket._

_He looked once more at the girl to lie before him. He had heard what she had said when his Aunt had spoken to her. It was obvious that she had chucked the locket given that it was so far from the campsite. She no longer loved him._

_Sighing he lifted her so that her head was propped against his neck, and apparated to Malfoy Mansion._

Draco was semiconscious in his thoughts when he felt an elbow jab him in the ribs.

"What the bloody hell, woman?" He wheezed as he put his hand over the spot where Hermione had jabbed him.

"I want to get up now and shower."

Draco looked at Hermione. Why was she telling him for? She could walk – she had legs. 'Damn good legs at that,' he thought.

"Then why don't you do it?" He asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I can't you prat! The last thing you said to be last night was 'Lay next to me,' so I'm stuck laying next to you until you tell me I can get up!" She practically yelled it at him. This obedience charm was going to get old really fast.

"Fine, fine. Get up, go do whatever you want," he moaned falling back into his pillow and closing his eyes, "as long as you don't attempt to drown yourself."

Hermione felt her body move against her will to get out of bed. She paused as she stood over Malfoy, "Is that an order?" she asked sardonically.

Draco peeped one eye open looking at her, trying to take in if she was serious or not. He scoffed, closed his eye, and smirked at her, "Hermione, do not drown yourself."

She raised an eyebrow at him and she watched him roll on his side facing away from her, "Fine, _oh Master_." Hermione huffed and stomped off to the bathroom.

She never would have really considered drowning herself, but she really hated being ordered around. Not having full control over ones actions was quite an unnerving situation in which to be.

She turned on the shower and pulled the curtains, letting the shower steam. As she leaned over the counter to find a towel she noticed something in the mirror. Her necklace was back around her neck. He must have put it back on while she was sleeping. If Draco had it, it meant that he was there the night she was captured.

She fumbled with the clasp and put it roughly on the counter top and gave it a contemptuous look as she disrobed and stepped in the shower, letting the hot water hide her tears.

**A/N: There was a lot of time change back and forth from narrative to memory, but still the past. I'm hoping it made sense - please let me know if it did! And I realized that after the fact, the whole necklace thing will make more sense if you read "Truth or Dare" since I didn't add that scene back in as a memory.**

**Please read and review!**


	3. Chapter 3: Saving You

**A/N: Hey all! I know it was a long wait and I'm sorry!! This is a filler chapter of sorts, and chapter four is nearly finished :D Please read and review!**

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Chapter 3: Saving You

A month passed with no real progression in life other than the progression of time. Hermione spent her days exploring the Malfoy Manor and its grounds; at night she lay next to Draco, always with his arm around her waist.

Every night he would whisper, "Lay next to me" in her ear and kiss her bare shoulder; every morning when she woke he would tell her she may do as she pleased as long as she entered neither his father's study nor the room in the Upper East Wing at the end of the hall.

"Oh, and don't venture far from the Manor if you are on the grounds," he would add as an afterthought.

Draco would then wink at her and disappear into the shower and she would hardly see neither hide nor hair of him for most of the day.

Hermione was especially pleased with the last command since it practically allowed her free range; "far" is subjective with no true boundaries. 'It would be better,' she thought, 'if there was no obedience charm in the first place.'

The only stipulation that irked her was the room in the Upper East Wing at the end of the hall. Every time she would stroll passed it during her daily wanderings her curiosity would wage war against the obedience charm.

"I don't want to go in," she would tell her conscience, "I just want to look." It's like telling a child they can't do something. Then they want to do it that much more.

One day while exploring the Manor, she pushed open a set of large oak doors to find a circular room with ceiling-high bookshelves; not a single space was vacant for an extra book.

Hermione's eyes lit up – for the first time in moths she felt joy. Over come by it she spun with outstretched hands. As the room came back into focus she saw that across from the doorway there was a large fireplace with three couches set up in front of it and a large gold-rimmed mirror above the mantle. To her right there was a ladder up which she could climb to reach any book her palpitating heart desired.

There were spell books, books on magical history, quidditch, alchemy, magical beasts, even novels and short stories that read themselves aloud when opened. There was every type of book imaginable. Unsurprisingly this included several books on the Dark Arts; this was the Malfoy residence after all.

Arms laden with books, Hermione eased down the ladder and plopped down on the sofa sitting across a glass-topped table from the fireplace and laid down to read.

Being Hermione Granger, she read and read. If there had been a window in the room she would have noticed the afternoon sun's light fade into dusk. As it were, the only light in the library came from the large chandelier that hung high above her head. She read until her eyes grew weary and she fell asleep with the book laying open on her chest.

--

Draco returned home in a rather foul mood that evening. He had been away with his father all day, "on business," as he euphemistically phrased it to Hermione. Tomorrow's Daily Prophet would surely headline that nine more ministry employees "disappeared" today – yet another euphemism that infiltrated everyone's daily lived.

Everyone knew what it really meant. Most who disappear are never seen alive again, if at all – they were kidnapped by Death Eaters, questioned, tortured, then killed when they are of no further use alive.

But what really fouled his mood were their two casualties for the day.

Draco and three other had been sent to the home of a woman who was the sister to pro-Order ministry official. Her seven-year-old boy saw his mother being tortured at their home is Surrey. The boy had run up to McNair, who had been using an unforgivable curse on the boy's mum, and bit McNair's wand arm with all the might he could muster.

McNair had howled in pain, his screams mixing with his victims; the cruciatus curse lifted and the woman crumpled to the ground. He threw the boy off his right arm, sending him sliding across the floor, stopping right in front of Draco.

The child had looked up at Draco with painfully determined eyes. Even at so young an age this chilled was willing to die to save his mother. Draco returned the boy's gaze and watched as McNair's curse robbed the life out of those eyes.

"What a bitch for raising such a defiant child," McNair growled. "I have spared you many grueling years of rebellion."

The woman had seized on the floor, wracking with pain and sobs, painful sobs. She crawled on the cold floor to the lifeless form of her son, wrapping him in her arms as if he were an infant.

"Draco," she wailed. "My son, my only son, Draco…"

Draco Malfoy's eyes never left the still opened ones of the young boy. Peripherally he saw another jet of greet light and the woman slumped over her son.

"Too bad the bastard died in vain," was all McNair had said as he turned on his heels to go tend to his would.

Lucius had walked past Draco, who had not moved, hissing in his ear as he made to follow McNair, "Send up the Mark."

Draco had found his way to his room in a daze and threw himself on his four-poster bed, thinking of the little boy; how odd it was they shared first names. Today was not the first day he was thankful they wore masks.

He found himself restless with thought, unable to lie still long enough to fall asleep. Instead he decided to walk about the Manor in hopes of finding Hermione. Ever her venomous tongue and sharp wit would cheer him at this point.

He walked for over an hour before finding Hermione curled up on the couch asleep; book in hand on her chest. Even with curls falling in her face she looked endearing.

Draco smiled and walked around the side of the couch and sat beside her. "Oh my little bookworm," he sighed.

Gently he pulled the book away, setting it on the table, and conjured both food and drink, leaving it on a tray on the glass-topped table. He spread an emerald green blanket over Hermione and lazily flicked his want at the fireplace as he rose and took a step toward one of the two vacant couches.

He took one look back at Hermione and smiled, leaning over to place a kiss on her temple before lying down. Within minutes he was asleep.

--

When Hermione woke it was night. The light in the library was dimmed enough that the only significant source of light was the roaring fire in the fireplace. To her right she saw a white blonde head of hair reflecting the firelight, making Draco's hair look orange.

Hermione's gaze drifted between the dancing flames in the fireplace and Draco's form on the couch. The growling of her stomach in protest of its emptiness filled the library before she snapped out of her trance, noticing the tray of food in front of her – finger sandwiches, cheese and crackers, raw vegetables, and pumpkin juice. It had been a month since she came to live at the Manor from the slave pens, but she still couldn't manage to eat heavy foods.

Eating, she returned to staring again. Thinking, just thinking.

Her mind mulled over what happened over a year ago between her and Draco, about what was going to happen to her now. As far as she knew she would die on Halloween – as might Draco and/or his family – if she did not turn against the order. But how could she do that? How could she betray her friends? They were her family.

She thought about the man sleeping on the other couch. Sleeping curled up in fetal position like he was he looked so much like a young boy who had not seen the evils in life rather than a man who was guilty of committing them.

She sighed. The firelight in his hair sparked her memory again. Orange; red and yellow; blood and blonde hair make orange.

Last night he had come home covered in blood.

Hermione had been asleep and did not open her eyes when she stirred due to the "pop" of him apparating inside his bedroom from the gateway of the Manor. They did not talk much seeing as Hermione currently was ignoring his presence as much as one who is forced to sleep next to Draco Malfoy could. So it didn't surprise her that he didn't say a word to her. What did surprise her was the sound of him stumbling into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Hermione had sat up straight, ears alert for more noises. She sat so quietly she dared not breathe.

The thud of a body hitting the tiled floor had brought her to her feet and through the door faster than a niffler on gold.

Draco had been lying on the floor, or at least she assumed it was Draco since he still had on his cloak and mask. Hermione had drawn breath sharply, unable to move as she stared at the Death Eater who lay bleeding on the floor.

"Hermione…"

She looked to the lips that whispered her name. Hermione snapped out of it, removing the black mask and worked to remove the cloak that competed his Death Eater ensemble. Tearing open his shirt she had seen a large gash on his abdomen and blood spilling profusely form the wound. He was bleeding everywhere. Everywhere there was blood and she had no wand to stop it or heal the lesion.

"Draco, I'm right here. Hold on." She had spoken to him fervently, as if he might be alive only a few more moments.

It had been years since she had to manage healing a wound without a wand. Hermione ran into the bedroom fumbling around for a shirt, which she found and ripped into strips and hurried back to Draco's side.

"Hermione…" Draco whispered with great effort.

Hermione had looked up to see him looking at her. Her eyes roamed his face finding gashes on his head; flood from the wounds had turned patches of his hair a reddish orange.

Tying the strips of cloth around Draco's abdomen, being sure to pull them tight, she had begun muttering to herself, "Pressure, apply pressure. Pressure induces clotting and causes coagulation; it stops the bleeding."

Draco had seethed at the pain, as her hands fumbled to tie the ends of the cloth into knots. Hermione hated the smell of blood; the sick sweet smell of iron filled her nostrils and made her nauseated. She had lifted Draco's head and began wrapping the other pieces of cloth over the wounds.

"Hermione… I'm…" Draco opened his eyes and looked at his lifesaver. She looked back and saw the pain in his eyes.

Hermione had given a small smile in response. "You're going to be really sorry if you don't hush up and save your energy. You've lost a lot of blood."

She had felt like a nurse in a war zone. Hermione finished tying the last strip and stepped to the sink running a cloth underwater, and began to dab away the blood off the face and chest of her patient.

Draco's eyes had closed again and his breathing had been slow, but steady. He bled through the cloth on his abdomen; it was entirely crimson.

Hermione wiped her brow with her forearm in a hastened manner. "Draco, I need your wand. You keep bleeding and I can't stop it without a wand."

He had mumbled inarticulately, pointing to the floor; it had fallen behind the sink. Hermione's eyes grew wider. Obviously he had been trying to heal himself before he fell.

"You git. Why couldn't you have asked for help rather than trying to heal yourself?"

"I didn't want you to see me like this," he breathed and closed his eyes again.

Hermione had reached for the wand, pointing it at the gash on Draco's stomach. Slowly the blood had stopped flowing out, the wound closed, and scar tissue formed in its place. She breathed a sigh of relief and administered the same spell to the major wounds on his forehead. All that was left now was the blood that was all over Draco, the floor. Hermione looked at her hands; they, too, were covered in Draco's blood.

"Scourgify," she articulated.

She had looked at him, his eyes closed. "You're healed." He said nothing.

"Draco," she repeated, with more earnest. Still he did not respond.

"Draco!" She had yelled. His silence was nervewracking.

"Damn it, Draco, you stubborn ass. Don't you die on me!" She slapped at his cheeks and shook him. "Draco! Wake up, please. DRACO!"

Slowly he had opened his eyes to half slits, and coughed softly. "I love it when you scream my name like that," he smiled weakly.

Hermione couldn't have helped but laugh. There he was, stepping back from the threat of death and all Draco could do was crack jokes. She cupped his face in her hands. "Sleep. You need to rest."

Before she had even finished her sentence he was asleep. Slowly she had stood and levitated his body to his bed where she pulled back the sheets and laid him down and pulled off his shoes and socks. Blush had risen in her cheeks when she undid his belt and pants, leaving him bare-chested in his green-and-white-striped boxers.

Hermione had pulled the covers up to his shoulders and walked around to "her side" of the bed and lay down. That night she did not have to lie next to him, but if it had been her nearly bleeding to death she wouldn't want to wake up alone. She had pitied him that night.

When she had woken up this morning, however, he was gone. She noticed the sheets were still warm as if he had been there only moments ago.

--

As Hermione sat silently thinking, Draco began to wake from his slumber. Yawning and stretching he rolled over and looked up at her sleep-eyed.

"Have a good rest?" she asked.

"Can't complain much. Though I have quite the pain in my stomach. I feel like I've been hit with a million bludgers." He exaggerated, yawning again.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What _did _happen last night?"

A momentary silence filled the library, as Draco said nothing.

"I see you found my library," he said evasively.

His non sequitur statement gave her pause. She had not expected him to avoid the question. He was covered in his own blood, which was most obvious. She saved his bloody retched, Hermione-Granger-stealing life for Merlin's sake.

"Don't change the subject."

"Did you find any books you like?"

"Draco you were _covered_ in blood…"

"Of course you did. You're Hermione Granger." Draco waved his hands in the air as if it had been ridiculous to conclude that she hadn't found anything she liked in a library.

"Malfoy!"

Draco's head snapped back to look at her. His face was hardened. "It should be obvious to an astute person that I am ardently ignoring the question, choosing light conversation as opposed to that which is congruent to an anvil."

Hermione stared straight into his eyes. Eyes have a magical quality about them. They can betray one's emotions, give a person away when lying, as well as say words which the mouth dare no: please.

She sniffed in annoyance, "Yes, I found several books I like quite well. You said this is _your_ library?"

"Yes, my father and mother each have their own as well. Be wary, you will find much more sinister tidbits of literature in my father's library than the Dark Arts books you will find here." Contempt had dripped from his words when he spoke. He had stretched out a hand gesturing to the many shelves, and then looked at the fire with his head turn away from Hermione.

Crossing her arms and leaning back against the couch she asked, "Business not go well today?

"No. It was _quite_ unsatisfactory."

"Oh. Did you lose some 'clients'?" She was obviously being pejoratively facetious.

He scoffed at the equivoque. "We lost two clients today." He stood up and walked across the room without looking at Hermione. Pausing at the doorway with his hand on the open door he said, "A young boy died today."

Hermione did not turn around, but she heard the door behind her close. Draco was gone. For once Hermione felt truly at a loss for words. With her hands covering her agape mouth she resumed her idol staring at the dancing flames.

--

Hermione did not go back to Draco's room that night. She fell asleep in the library waking only when a house elf, Bogie – so affectionately named by a three-year-old Draco – brought her a tray of food.

"Mornin' Miss 'Ermione. I has broughtn' you some breakfast since you is not at the breakfast table." Bogie bowed politely once he set down the tray on the glass-topped table.

"Thank you, Bogie, but you didn't have to do that."

"I's no trouble Miss, I live to serve the Malfoy's and their guests." The elf bowed again, his nose nearly touching the floor, as he apparated.

"A prisoner's more like it," Hermione moaned to no one.

Yawning, Hermione eyed the tray; it looked as if she had a whole feast to herself. After she had her fill she stood up and took the remains down to the kitchen.

She entered the breakfast room to find Draco pouring over the Daily Prophet, the front of which read: "Nine Disappearances Yesterday, Ministry Unrest Increases."

"I'm surprised you're still here. No business to attend to today?" she asked cynically.

"Thankfully not," re replied without looking at her, just as stoic as she was sardonic.

"So then what are you going to do?"

His eyes peered over his newspaper at her, raising an eyebrow, giving her a "come hither" look.

"Pervert." Hermione spat.

"Would you expect any different?"

"No," she said shortly setting her tray on the counter and taking the seat across from Draco.

"I live up to other expectations as well," he winked at her.

"Ugh, excuse me as I vomit in my mouth." Hermione mimed getting sick.

Draco laughed. "Always so lady-like."

"Right, because you're always the model of a perfect gentleman. When, Malfoy, have you done anything for someone other than yourself?"

The use of his surname set his temper on the rise. He had hoped they were past that by now. "I saved _your_ arse, didn't I? If it weren't for me you'd still be in the slave pens!"

"Harry and Ron might have saved me."

Draco barked with laughter, throwing the newspaper on the table. He certainly was never in the mood to discuss them. "Bloody Saint Potter and the Weasel. It looks like your heterosexual life mate pals haven't even tried yet." In the back of his mind, he knew he should stop but the brain-mouth off-switch was obviously faulty. "It seems they've abandoned you."

Hermione slammed her fist on the table. "They didn't abandon me! They would never do that!"

"Well they certainly were nowhere around when you were captured, were they?" he asked rhetorically. "We searched the whole forest practically looking for those two."

Hermione held back her tears of rage as Draco spoke. A month's worth of pain and anger was threatening to spill over like a tidal wave.

"You've had no word from the Order, there has been no infiltrations into the slave pens," Draco continued. "Just forget them. I'm sure they think you dead."

"Why the bloody hell should they think that?" Hermione inquired incredulously. Surely Harry and Ron were daft if they thought she had died.

"Because a Dark Mark was set over your bloody campsite!" Draco yelled.

"Wh…What? Why would you say that?" Hermione couldn't believe him. She wouldn't believe him. "Why are you lying?" If he were right, then they must really think her dead and that would mean the last time she saw either Harry or Ron she had been angry with them.

"If they thought you were alive they would surely come after you. We couldn't risk that."

"Why would you tell me this?"

"Because, Hermione," Draco said, "I'm the one who had cast it."

* * *

**A/N: Oh no! Do they really think she is dead?! Well I guess you'll have to wait until chapter four :D Review and you might get an update sooner! (yes I'm a review whore, I'm sorry. But they are great motivators!!) **


	4. Chapter 4: Off the Beaten Path

**A/N: Hey! As I promised, I updated much quicker! I had a spark of imagination and I know exactly how this is going to go now :D Read and Review. Enjoy!**

**P.S. Thank you! to all my reviewers. I have done my best to reply to those who had comments. I really appreciate them. Y'all's review and help are the reasons I keep writing and improving :)**

* * *

Chapter 4: Off the Beaten Path

Harry Potter was sitting on the cold earth, starring at the headstone that bore his father's and mother's names. He had known their death his whole life, he had lost Sirius and Dumbledore; it made him sick to think that he had now lost Hermione, too. It had been a whole month and they had had no news of her existence. Against his last hope, he feared she might really be dead.

He looked over at Ron who was wandering the cemetery looking at names they might know.

Sometimes at night while he slept, Ron would wake up in a fit after muttering her name in his sleep for hours and would go walking around, his head hung low as if he'd killed his best friend. There was no making him realize it wasn't his fault.

The only part of the attack neither boy could figure out was how the Death Eaters had found Hermione. With all the projective jinxes and charms around the campsite it should have been nigh impossible.

Harry leaned his back against the nearest headstone and looked up at the sky. It was a cloudless night.

"Hermione, we really need you. We're lost and we can't seem to find where to go," He spoke to the starry sky, hoping some how she would hear him. "We were lucky the Death Eaters didn't find your charmed bag with all of our things in it; it would have been impossible to make it to Godric's Hollow without it. Ron and I found Gryffidor's Sword in the forest the night you… the night they took you away from us." He couldn't bear to say, "died"; saying it removes all blind hope and makes it unbearably real.

"Ron's a right mess. He blames himself, you know, he feels like he abandoned you. I'm afraid he's going mad with grief. Hermione, I think he loved you." Harry paused to look over at Ron who was now walking towards him from the other side of the graveyard. He gave a sorrowful smile and looked back at the stars. "I love you, too, Hermione. I never thought I'd have to do all of this without you. It was supposed to be you, and me, and Ron – the three of us, not just two. I'm sure if you were here you'd tell us there was a more clever way to do things. You were always so smart like that, so sure of yourself. If they really did kill you, I hope you gave them hell first!"

Ron's feet were crunching leaves and dead sticks right next to Harry.

"Talking to 'em again, mate?" he asked, standing with his hands in his pockets.

"Not really," Harry replied, "I was talking to Hermione."

"Oh," was all Ron could manage.

Harry looked up at Ron expressionless. "Ron, I think she's still alive. She'd be better use to them alive, they'd use her to get to me."

"Are you thick? The Dark Mark was in the sky, Harry. They only do that when they kill someone."

"They didn't when they attacked Hogwarts in our sixth year. It was a decoy to get Dumbledore to come back to the castle sooner," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, and _then _they killed him."

In the darkness of the night it was difficult to make out Ron's expression; he was angry with himself again. A forlorn breeze blew through the cemetery, making it seem much more dreary and lifeless. When surrounded with this much death, how could one hope for life?

Ron stared at the ground for a long while before speaking again. "She's dead, Harry, and it's my fault." He turned and trudged off to where they had set up tent not far outside the Godric's Hollow.

Harry watched him go then looked back up at the stars. "See what I mean?"

--

"Hermione, please come out! You've been in there for two days!" Draco called through the library door. There was no reply. "You must reek," he ventured.

Behind the oak doors Hermione lay on the couch across from the fireplace looking up at the ceiling. Nonchalantly she lolled her head sideways and took in a whiff, wrinkling her nose as she recoiled.

"Hermione, honestly, I'm starving. Won't you come out of there?" Draco whined. He was sitting with his back against the doors, his legs drawn up and his stomach was growling with growing indignation. He was so hungry that Draco swore his stomach must be near eating itself; he knew his liver would be next.

"You could just leave me alone. It's a novel concept, I'm sure." She yelled resentfully.

"I'm not leaving until you come out of that library," He promised, "Even if I have to make you!"

At the thought of the obedience charm, Hermione sat up quickly, staring at the doorway as if it were Malfoy. "You wouldn't dare!"

Draco stood up acting much the same as Hermione was, staring at the doors. He laughed, daring her, "Try me, sweetheart."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! Don't you dare," Hermione was standing at this point, pointing her index finger at the doors. "If you do I swear I'll…"

"ONE…" Draco yelled.

"Don't do this, Dra…"

"TWO…"

Hermione was marching towards the door.

"TWO AND A HALF…"

Hermione was on the other side of the door, now. "Malfoy, don't!"

"THREE!"

Hermione flung the door open to find Draco smiling at her, no wand in hand.

"There, now wasn't that easy?" He said amused.

"You insufferable git. I'm not talking to you!"

"Don't slam the door," Draco reacted, noting her hand itching to throw the door in his face. "Now, it's been two days since you showered and I'm sure you're starving. Go wash up and meet me in the gardens when you're done."

Hermione signed as she felt her feet move subordinately under the charm.

"Please," Draco added.

Instantly Hermione felt in control of her body again. She looked at Draco who was still smiling that sickly, innocently sweet smile that made you want to pinch his cheeks… or slap them, which ever the case may be.

"I'm still mad at you," she stated petulantly like a child who was on the verge of a tantrum.

"I thought you weren't talking to me."

Hand on her hips, she replied, "I'm not," and marched off to Draco's room to shower.

Draco watched her leave, "You'll understand soon."

--

Draco rapped soundly on the door to his father's study.

"Come in," a voice said on the other side of the doorway.

Draco opened it and walked inside the vast, high-ceilinged room. Behind a mahogany desk sat the elder Mr. Malfoy; he looked imperiously at his son, scrutinizing every minute detail.

"You asked to see me, Father," Draco stated as he stepped in front of the desk, his hands behind his back.

"Yes, I did. I was checking on your progress with the Mudblood; I heard the Dark Lord," Lucius paused dramatically, thinking of the most dignified way to phrase his thoughts, "made his displeasure known the other night when you met with him."

"It was quite clear," Draco sneered pulling back his robes and lifting his shirt to expose a long scar across his abdomen.

Lucius looked at him contemptuously. "You will not fail. I need not remind you that the lives of this family are at stake, Draco."

"No, you need not. I know my orders."

"Then why aren't you following them!" Lucius snarled. The continuation of his life was completely in the hands of his only son, a fact in which Lucius did not take comfort.

"Have patience, Father. If she does not convert by Halloween, I have a back up plan. 'In the rare event that we fail, Malfoys always have a second plan.'" He stated his fathers well rehearsed mantra.

"Oh? And what plan is that?"

"I can simply use an obedience charm to make her say and do as we please. The Dark Lord would not expect us to fool him in such a manner."

"You should just imperious the mudblood," Lucius suggested.

"Father, the Dark Lord is wiser than to fall for such a ploy."

Lucius nodded in agreement. His son had given this more thought than he had anticipated. The imperius curse would make her less that lucid; any one of the death eaters would surely notice it to if they were to speak to her.

"After we make it through Halloween, it will buy us more time to get the job done."

Lucius looked at Draco silently from behind his desk, sitting with his fingertips touching. This allowed the Malfoys to be in control, a thought that much pleased him. "You may go."

Draco turned and walked towards the door without saying another word.

"Getting cold feet is not an option his time," Lucius stated before his son exited the study.

--

The May sun shone brightly with no clouds to impede its rays. When Hermione came outside in a floral-pattered dress – Narcissa had thrown out the attire she came with saying it smelled of death – it was to find Draco sitting at a white wicker table with matching wicker chairs.

She sat down across from him; he looked much more sour than he did an hour ago.

"Tea?" He asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Sugar?" Draco asked once the tea was done pouring itself.

Hermione nodded once more and watched as a lump of sugar came out of the sugar bowl and dissolved in the teacup.

Hermione and Draco both sipped on their tea in silence. Despite the lack of conversation that threatened to make the environment awkward, it was serene outside. Birds sang and flitted about in the happiness of springtime. Ventures outside had done a bit of good for Hermione over the past month. The blush had returned to her cheeks, replacing the sallow, pallid complexion one gained from the darkness of the slave pens – a fact that was not lost on Draco as he looked at her while she admired the albino peacocks nearby.

Draco was the first to break the silence. "Would you care to join me for a walk?"

Hermione nodded for a third time, standing in order to fall into step at Draco's side. She was determinedly not saying a word until she needed to do so.

They strolled around the many gardens the Manor had. Great statues of magical creatures, even statues of the Malfoys themselves, adorned many of them.

"I'm sure you know the conditions under which you are here," Draco said, noting the rigidity of Hermione's walk that resulted from his words. He continued, "You are here so that I can make you turn against the Order, against Harry Potter. The condition is that if you don't join us by Halloween, then you will die. The Dark Lord's patience wanes daily and he is not pleased that no progress has been made with you."

"Is that why you were injured?" Hermione asked, forgetting she was supposed to be resolutely not talking to Draco.

He made no move to acknowledge her deduction.

"It was your own blood, after all."

"Of course." Not disagreeing was confirmation. "Anyways, something must be done to fix this." Draco took Hermione's arm and wound it into his own, leading her away from the Manor.

"Fix it? How do you mean?"

"I mean, how are we going to make them believe you have changed sides?"

Hermione was sure "them" was not referring to the Order of the Phoenix. "Believe? You mean you're not going to make me?" By this time they were a good deal away from the Manor and coming up on a pathway leading into the woods.

"No, Hermione, of course not. Do you think I saved you only to give you back to the Dark Lord?" Draco looked at her as if he was hurt that she would think that. "I never wanted that life for you."

"It's the life _you_ have," Hermione pointed out, stepping over a root that had grown over the path.

"It was a life that was chosen for me. It was preordained by my family that I would serve the Dark Lord," he replied darkly, now leading her off the path as if it were normal to wander through woods with no path to guide you.

"You could have walked away. The Order would have protected you."

Draco laughed. "They did a good job protecting you."

"The Order didn't actually know where Harry, Ron, and I were. We left school, our homes, everything, and told no one where we were going," Hermione confessed. "I even altered my parents' memory to keep them safe; they don't know I exist now."

Draco didn't know what to say. She had dedicated her life to her cause so much that she even made herself practically an orphan.

"Oh," he said lamely.

"We all had to make sacrifices." Hermione reasoned. She had not thought of her parents in months. There absence really made her feel as if they didn't exist.

Hermione and Draco came to a clearing that was patched with willow trees – whomping willows Hermione noticed upon closer inspection.

"What are we doing here?"

"You'll see."

They walked past a few trees – as a safe distance of course – and came up to one that was close to the center of the field. As the tree began to protest their close proximity, Draco pulled out his wand and muttered, "Impedimenta," then led Hermione up to the trunk of the immobilized tree.

"Not very original are you?" Hermione smirked, realizing what was going on.

"Yes, well, Severus thought it best that I had a place to hide out after I failed to kill Dumbledore. Go open it," he said giving Hermione a nudge towards the tree.

Hermione was surprised to find that her feet did not move obediently to Draco's command. She beamed, looking back at Draco who just looked at her with a knowing smile. She was free.

Hermione walked up to the whomping willow and found a heart carved into it with initials in the middle – D.M. + H.G. Hermione gave a wistful smile at the affectionate symbol.

Beside the carving was a knot in the tree that would have been inconspicuous if she had not know for what she was looking. The Whomping Willow at Hogwarts had a knot that kept it from moving; Hermione figured this knot opened the tree since there was no hollow to be seen. She pushed her palm against it and felt it sink into the tree. A hollow large enough for a grown man to walk through appeared, as the tree seemed to split open.

Draco walked up in front of her and led her by the hand in to the depths of the tree, his want alight. They traveled for a long while until they came to a door and the top of a flight of stairs. In front of her Draco opened it and walked over to a fireplace in the middle of the room.

Looking around she saw there was a bed, a night stand, a matching green couch and chair beside the stone fireplace, books on the mantle held erect by two book ends, a kitchen to the left of the main door and a door to the bathroom to the left. The place had a very earthy feel. Everything was in browns and greens, decorated with ornamentations of gold.

"There are no windows," Hermione pointed out.

"That's because if there were all you would see is dirt."

"We're still underground?"

"Severus thought it was too risky setting up a place above ground, even if we made it unplottable." Draco explained sitting down on the couch after lighting a roaring fire in the cold, damp room; Hermione followed suit. Being underground did have its disadvantageous at times.

"It actually turned out to be pretty useful. A few months ago I had been on my way out here. It was about dusk when a horrible screech rang through the woods. A neophyte vampire was in the forest and, as you know, when they're that young they are more animal than human – they only have one thing to do: feed. It had chased me to the tree, but it couldn't figure out how to get in. If this had been a house I'm sure it would have flow in through the windows to get at me." Draco finished his anecdote and look at Hermione whose eyes were as big as saucers.

He laughed. "It's okay, I survived. I'm still here."

"How did you get out? Surely it waited for you for a while."

"I stayed here for a couple days then took the back way out."

"Back way?" Hermione looked around the windowless room.

"Of course, only a fool would have a one way in to or out of anything."

Hermione nodded in agreement. That would be foolish, indeed. "So why did you bring me here?"

"My father's ears are everywhere at the Manor and I thought it best if we discussed this away from any who might be listening at doors."

The two sat beside the fire for hours discussing potential plans for how to make Voldemort believe Hermione had switched sides, without her actually doing so. Each idea became more and more in depth and more dangerous. They had to be willing to risk everything to save each other.

After they made some semblance of a plan they sat in silence, each of them thinking of the months to come.

"Draco," Hermione said hesitantly. Her companion looked at her with a raised eyebrow as if to say 'yes?'

"Why did you choose him over me?" There was no need for her to clarify to "him" was.

He was taken aback by her question. It was a few minutes before he found voice to answer her. "In a roundabout way I actually chose you."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "How do you mean?"

"By me choosing the Dark Lord, I was doing my best to keep you out of his path. I obviously failed since you were captured but with the taboo on his name there was nothing I could do. If I had abandoned the Dark Lord after I received my mark, they would have hunted me down the way they have done others in the past. They would have found you, too, if you were with me. I couldn't risk that."

Hermione was flabbergasted to hear that he gave his life to the Dark Lord for her. "Draco, I told you – the Order could protect you and keep you at headquarters. It is protecting Snape already."

"Potter and Weasley would have torn the mickey out of me if I showed up. Especially if they found out about us!" Draco laughed boisterously. It was an infectious laugh and Hermione soon found herself laughing, too, both of them knowing it was true.

**A/N: I hoped you liked it! I always thought Draco must have had a better reason to join Voldemort besides his parents. He did it for Hermione... in an odd, backwards, roundabout sort of way. How chivalrous of him :D**

**Please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5: Promises, Promises

**A/N: It's been so long! College really kept me busy this semester :\ This is just a tidbit I was inspired to write over break. I hope you love it! :D**

**Again, I own nothing in this story except my plotline! Thank the fantabulous J.K. Rowling for everything else :)**

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Hermione lay awake in her bed – well Draco's bed – all night thinking of what had transpired that day. It was a lot to take in knowing that Draco had been trying to protect her this whole time. How often had he been close by while she was completely ignorant of his presence?

She suddenly felt pained, selfish even – if not for her, she'd still be helping Harry and Ron, while Draco would still be trying to keep the Death Eater's from finding her. She would have unknowingly been keeping Harry and Ron out of danger.

Guilt tugged at her heartstrings. If only she hadn't been so irrational and had stopped to remember the bloody taboo none of this would have happened. Then again, she wouldn't know now about Draco, either. Hermione sighed deeply, an unbidden quandary was formulating in her thoughts: Draco, or Harry and Ron.

Beside her, Draco woke to a throbbing pain in his left forearm. Instinctually he placed his hand over it and stood out of bed to grab his cloak.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked her bedfellow.

"Sorry, I.. I didn't realize you were awake. Um.. er.." Draco stammered as he walked into the closet. He came out with black garments draped over his forearm. "Business," he finished lamely.

"At this hour?!" Hermione looked at the clock resting on the armoire: 4:07 A.M.

"Hermione. Be serious. This is the Dark Lord we're talking about. I could be at St. Mungo's and my hypothetical wife in labor and he would still find it a convenient time to summon me."

Hermione rolled her eyes so far back into her head she looked unnervingly like Professor Trelawney. "Well fortunately for you, you've neither a wife nor an unborn child about which to worry."

Draco paused at the doorway and scanned her frame with speculative eyes, one eyebrow raised in mischief.

"For now," he laughed, ducking a well-aimed pillow. He looked once more at her propped up on her elbows on his bed – _his bed _– an intriguing smirk on her face. "I won't be long, promise."

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When Hermione woke later in the morning Draco still hadn't returned. Coming down to breakfast, she found that Narcissa was sitting at the breakfast table with Lucius beside her.

"Good morning." She hummed merrily. Nothing pleased her as much as the knowledge that she made Lucius Malfoy unnerved – his longevity was wholly dependent on her until Halloween.

Lucius grumbled a response without looking up from his Daily Prophet. Narcissa glanced stoically – it was always hard to tell on whose side she stood.

"Where is Draco?" Hermione asked, looking at raised newspaper.

"Why should I know?" He nonchalantly replied.

Hermione stared at Lucius from behind her pumpkin juice, raising an eyebrow at his left forearm.

"This is a family matter, one in which you have no business meddling." He said defensively, snapping his newspaper.

"I may not be a part of this family, but I think I have a right to know where Draco is if I am to be…"

"Morning Father, Mother, _Hermione_," Draco's calm voice spoke from somewhere behind Hermione. She turned around quickly, expecting to see him covered in blood or a bit shabby at least, but no, he looked as collected as ever.

"Morning dear, I trust everything went well?" Narcissa inquired.

Her son nodded his head slightly. This tacit reply seemed sufficient enough as neither Narcissa nor Lucius added more to the conversation, returning to their morning routine.

Draco sat down next to Hermione where a place setting had appeared with a plate full of eggs and toast with jam appeared. "Did you miss me?" He asked coyly, ignoring the presence of his parents who were, at this moment, feigning deafness.

"Why should you think that?" Hermione countered.

"You seemed rather worked up about my absence." He said unabashed, spreading raspberry jam over a slice of toast.

"I was concerned, that's all." She sniffed; her attempt at apathy was transparent and she knew it. "You said you'd be back soon, so I was a bit bothered when I woke up and you weren't there."

At that moment Lucius made a horrid retching noise and tried to cover it with a cough. It sounded like a cat with a furball caught in it's throat. "If you'll excuse me, I think something disagreed with me."

Both Lucius and Narcissa stood up from the table and walked out of the room, and as they did so their plates vanished out of sight.

"You might want to fix your knickers, sweetheart, they seem like their in a bit of a twist."

Hermione's cheeks blushed scarlet. "Draco Malfoy, I'll have you know you have no effect on either me or my knickers."

Draco scoffed, "Don't lie to yourself; it's not good for your character," and took a large bite of toast, chewing with an amused grin on his face.

"Then I'm sure that explains yours." She retorted acridly. "Don't think that I've completely forgotten what you've done, Draco."

Draco's smile faltered. What had he done now?

Hermione's body was suddenly quivering with unbidden anger. Standing she fumbled her fork onto her plate. "I loved you," she said, emotions bubbling up inside her chest choked her words, "I loved you and you left me."

Hermione dropped her utensils with a loud clamor and ran out into the gardens of the manor, her cheeks still flushed in rage. Waking up alone without Draco beside her and unknowingly opened Pandora's Box. She hadn't realized until now how angry she still was at him for leaving her alone all that time ago. Never once did he try to contact her to say he missed her, or that he was sorry, or just to say he was alive. She had been abandoned, left to move on, alone and unwanted. For a good part of a year she had walked the halls of Hogwarts like a ghost of who she had been: Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age. She'd been an empty shell, empty of much except hurt and brooding anger.

Inside Draco still sat dumbstruck – for the first time he had heard her say she'd loved him. The past tense context had stung, but it was a small price to pay for the elation he felt, too. Before he'd even registered his actions, Draco was three strides from the double-door exit to the grounds running after Hermione.

Outside the grey morning had darkened - thunderhead clouds rolled in ominously from the west and the wind was picking up, but Hermione kept running up the green hillside, ignoring the impending storm. The rain began to fall lightly at first, then in torrents.

"Hermione! HERMIONE!" From somewhere close behind her she heard her name carried on the wind, but she did not slow up.

Unfortunately for her, Draco was much faster. "Hermione, wait!" He yelled, catching her by the crook of her arm and spinning her around to face him.

It happened so fast that Hermione was hardly sure it had happened at all. She had barely realized she had been caught when she felt a pair of lips crash on to hers, imploring her to reciprocate.

Draco kissed her so ardently he could have been screaming his profession of love and it wouldn't have been more passionate. Rain trailed down their faces, falling off the tips of their noses and chins, but they could not have been less aware of the inclement weather.

When he finally withdrew, Hermione found Draco's eyes locked on hers. Those stormy grey eyes that held such ferocity that the storm they were in might have been a spring shower in comparison.

"Hermione, I love you," he barked over the sound of the rain and wind.

"You can't love me, Draco. I don't fit in with this life!"

"You fit with me," he insisted.

"I can't accept you having that _brand_ on your arm. He is expecting me to turn against the Order? Betray my friends? All by Halloween? And YOU! You are wanting me to be with you? Imagine us, Draco, the happy family of _Death Eaters_?" Hermione flailed her arms in the air in exasperation.

"I never wanted that for you, and you know that!"

"But it is acceptable for you?"

"I had no..."

"You ALWAYS have a choice!" Hermione bellowed.

Draco and Hermione were both panting, chests heaving from yelling over the howling winds whipping water in their faces. Both of them were squinting with wet hair matted to their heads.

"Then I choose you." Draco said softly.

Hermione did not immediately answer. She took in everything about his features from his disheveled hair, to sincerity in his eyes.

"You can't just choose me now."

"Why can't I?"

"Draco… you just can't. It's too late. It's over."

"It isn't over! You said I _always_ have a choice, and I'm choosing you now, Hermione Granger," He said as he stepped forward, catching her lips in his as she made to protest.

Hermione straddled Draco's waist as he carried her inside; he hardly paid attention to where he was going as he was too focused on continuing to kiss Hermione's already swollen lips. They hit several door frames, knocked over a lamp, and shoved up against a couple walls all before they reached Draco's bedroom where he collapsed them both on his bed.

Fervent hands worked to removed their drenched clothing which were promptly strewn all over the bedroom floor.

Draco had pulled Hermione's oversized pajama top above her midriff and paused to look at her. "Are you sure?"

Hermione bit her lip, smiling and nodded her response and leaned up to kiss Draco. When their lips met she could feel the smile playing on his lips, sending her stomach aflutter as her last article of clothing was removed.

Draco rolled to her side roaming her body with his hands, tempting her with foreplay that made her body ache for him. Her breaths became more rapid as he teased her; his breaths echoed the pattern in anticipation.

When in ecstasy she uttered his name, it was too overwhelming for him to control his body anymore. In one swift movement Draco took the nape of Hermione's neck in his hand and kissed her on the mouth as he entered her wet folds. He continued to hold onto her lovingly and trailed kisses over her face and neck. As they climaxed together they found themselves starring into each others eyes.

"Hermione, I love you," Draco said as his body shivered.

Hermione smiled and leaned up to place a kiss on his lips. "I love you, too, Draco."

"I will never leave you again," he swore.

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**A/N: I hope it was enough to satisfy. I will try to work on another chapter to post in the next couple weeks! Cheer up - the semester's almost over!!!! :D**

**Narratively Yours,  
Kat**


	6. Chapter 6: Of Heads and Manners

**A/N: Oh, it has been so long! Hopefully, it will only be a week until my next update! Please read and review!**

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"So what do we do now?" Hermione asked in a whisper as she lay in the crook of Draco's arm, her fingers trailing circles on his bare chest.

Sighing, he looked down at her and lifted her chin with one finger, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe."

A _crack_ announce the presence of Bogie. "Master Draco, sir," he said, bowing obsequiously, "Master Lucius says he would like to see you in his study." Bogie looked from Draco to Hermione, and back to Draco, "Now, sir."

Rolling his eyes, Draco sat up and rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation. "Yes, all right. Tell him I'll be there in a moment."

"Er, sir?" The house elf began to wring his hands in distress.

"Yes, Bogie, what else does my father command?"

"Er… he would also like to see Miss Hermione, too." The large, bulbous eyes stared up at Hermione, whose eyes opened wide in shock.

"Me? What the bloody hell would he have to speak to me about?"

"Master Lucius did not says, Miss."

Draco gave Hermione's arm a squeeze. "Thank you, Bogie, we both will be right there." He looked at Hermione, taking in her sheet-covered body and disheveled hair. "You know how judgmental my father is. You will need to get dressed and look as appropriate as you can. Whatever you do, do not listen to a word I say to him. I told you, I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Twenty minutes later Draco found himself walking through the tall mahogany doors to Lucius Malfoy's study, leaving Hermione waiting on one of the several couches in the adjacent sitting room. As he had suspected, his father meant to interrogate them separately.

"Draco Malfoy, have my aging ears deceived me," came Lucius Malfoy's voice from behind the Daily Prophet floating an inch above the large desk, "or did I really hear the words _'I loved you. I loved you, and you left me,'_ uttered from the lips of the mud blood and directed at you?"

Draco did not flinch, this is what he had expected. "No, sir, you heard correct. Quite an accomplishment, do you not think so?"

The daily prophet began folding itself, unmasking an expression of unadulterated disgust. Slamming his fist on the desk, Lucius bellowed, "No, I do NOT bloody think so! What in the name of Merlin are you doing? If the Dark Lord found out about your… your egregious lack of propriety he will call this whole plan off and find another way of getting to Harry Potter. To think, you meddling around with a filthy mudbood!"

"If the Dark Lord heard word about my 'lack of propriety' as you call it, I'm quite certain he would be resolved in thinking I was making some form of progress."

"It is not this current task that concerns me… as much. I am referring to the past tense phrase _'loved'_." As he said the word his top lip curled. "How long have you and _her_ been hiding some affair? I demand an answer, and it better be agreeable."

Draco and his father stared unwaveringly at each other. "Everyone needs a play thing, Father. You cannot deny that she would be tolerable, were she pureblood. Fix that unruly mane of hair on her head, and one might even be tempted to call her beautiful."

"Such filth, Draco, I truly am disappointed. What of Miss Parkinson?"

"What about that trollop?" Draco barked.

"It has been planned since infancy that you and her would be conjoined legally."

"As if I give a damn! You dislike her family just as much as I dislike that insufferable imbecile. Should the Malfoy line really be so tainted by such an idiotic whore who couldn't tell her arse from her head?"

"Draco Malfoy! I do what I must to ensure this family lives. No matter who I must like or not. If word got out to the rest of the followers that my only son, the last in the line of one of the oldest pureblood lines, heir to…"

"Heir to WHAT?" Draco through out his arms to indicate everything around him. "This manor and our heads?"

"That's a LOT more than most can say! There would be an uproar about this, people claiming that you do not uphold all that the Dark Lord is fighting for. Do you want them to turn against us?"

"Is it really us you are worried about them turning against, or are you worried about them turning against you?"

With a wave of Lucius's wand, Draco felt a hard slap on the face. "I warn you, do not try my patience Draco. I was not blessed with much of it."

Draco looked back at his father still sitting behind his desk. "If you would silence your tongue long enough to let your brain comprehend, you would realize my past indiscretions are not wholly with out their benefits. I can convince her to alter her allegiance much more easily if she loves me."

Lucius sat in silence, wand still in hand. "Explain."

"Silly girls do stupid things for love." Draco swallowed before his spoke again, convincing himself to remain in control. "A silly mud blood would do anything. Even abandon the only friends she has in the world. With this advantage, we would not require deception to buy us more time - there is a much greater chance of us succeeding unscathed."

As his father flicked his wand once again, Draco heard the doors behind him open once again. "You had better be right, Draco, in your assertions. There are barely five months left. Send in the girl."

Draco nodded and turned to leave, taking large strides to the open doorway.

"Oh, and Draco," Lucius added.

Draco stopped and slightly inclined his head towards his father, such that only an ear was turned towards him.

"Do not think I will not feed you to the wolves if you fail."

"I do not think it is me you will have to worry about."

Hermione stood as she saw the doors open again. She had been so worried that she had hardly noticed she had bitten her lip so hard it was swollen. Watching as the exchange occurred between the two men, she had cocked her head to the side with her brow knitted, not being able to hear what had transpired. She had not heard the words, but she saw the ferocity on Draco's face.

"My _Father_ would like to speak to you, now." He did not stand closer than two feet from her before turning on his heels, heading for the grounds of the manor. Hermione watched as he reached the door, pausing to glance back at her and giving her a half-hearted smile before disappearing from sight.

"Enter!" Came a bellowing voice from within the study. Shifting her glance back, she straightened her shoulders and held her head high in contempt and stepped into the snake pit.

"In your stay here over the past month, I have seen no change in your demeanor. I highly doubt that Draco will succeed unassisted. I'm sure he will not like seeing his pet broken in, however, changes must be made. You are still just as rude and insufferable as you were when your pathetic life was given back to you, under my roof."

"Yes, because you are the epitome of couth and courtesy." Hermione retorted. "You are speaking to me from behind a paper. To most, that would be seen as socially unacceptable"

Lucius snapped his paper down. "You really should learn to hold your tongue if you wish to keep it. Considering your kind are not relevant in civil society, I do not think it should be offensive if I wish not to _look_ at you more than I am obliged to."

"Then may I leave, seeing as there seems to be nothing to be said of any relevance?" Hermione inclined her head to stare directly into his eyes. "I will, in doing so, save you the trouble of looking at me."

"Impertinent and insolent mud blood! How dare you speak to me like this! If you do not conform to the requirements of my master I will have no quarrel disposing of you myself. I will not have my life put on the line for someone of so little consequence."

"So little consequence? It seems as if I am actually of every consequence to the continuation of your life." Her nostrils flared in indignation as her cheeks were flushing red hot with anger. "Every breath you take Lucius Malfoy is given to you because I have still almost five months to convince your _master_ that Draco has not failed. To think, your life hangs by a thread in my hands." She smiled devilishly, "Who knows, maybe I will slip up just to see you punished for it."

In an instant of unadulterated hate, Lucius Malfoy flicked his wand and a red jet of light was sent at Hermione who flew up into the air, her body wracking with excruciating pain. While lights erupted behind her eyelids, while silent screams of pain reverberated in her head.

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**A/N: So what do you think will happen next! Please review!**

**Narratively yours, **

**Kat  
**


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